


What Kills Us Both

by SkySkii



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Body Horror, Body Multilation, Bugs & Insects, Complete, Death, Eyes, God fuck someone stop me, Hallucinations, I got too carried away, I'm really gross ok, Junkrat loses his fucking mind, M/M, Mild Gore, One Shot, Suicide, There's a lot of dying, Trypophobia, Violence, Vomiting, ommetaphobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-30 02:21:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12098574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkySkii/pseuds/SkySkii
Summary: They say what you love will be the death of you.That the one thing that brings you happiness can bring your world to come crashing down at the same time.But Junkrat and Roadhog have spent more than enough years in an unforgiving wasteland. They knew better than to become overly attached to anything that posed as a threat to their livelihood.So they were safe.Safe from death.Right?





	What Kills Us Both

**Author's Note:**

> Wowee, this started off as a joke fic prompted by a group conversation with my friends in which someone said something along the lines of "How'd you think Junkrat's gonna die?"  
> One thing led to another n well... here we are.
> 
> This went on for longer than I planned ahaha, but apparently I have no self control over writing about my favourite characters suffering.
> 
> Thanks to my buddies Jen n Jaide (Tumblr links in end notes) for being my beta readers/editors!

Anything that could go wrong went wrong. 

Their first mistake was their hasty planning; however, that usually wasn’t a problem for a pair like Junkrat and Roadhog. Planning was always stuck near the bottom of their to-do list when preparing for a heist, anarchy or general destruction. The duo would usually make-shift an escape route from their situation on the spot; or hurl scrap and bombs at anyone in their way until they paved themselves a pathway to the exit made of blood and bodies. But, when they failed to be informed that the windows in the bank they had planned to demolish were bullet-proof, they panicked. 

Their second mistake was stupidly not packing enough ammunition for their usual gunpowder-and-shrapnel-filled-grand-exit.  
“Don’t wanna carry all that, m’shoulders hurt,” Junkrat had complained, lifting up their ‘heist duffle bag’ which was significantly more deflated than usual, “‘sides, it’ll be quick ‘n’ quiet. Just a few poppers ta blow the doors, we’ll be stealthy!”  
Roadhog simply grunted in agreement, tuning out his boss’s words like usual, not knowing this move had virtually doomed them. ‘A few poppers’ turned out to make a hell lot more noise than intended. 

Their final mistake was more of an embarrassment to them as ‘master criminals’ – failing to hear the wailing sirens and car tire screeches outside as they were too absorbed in setting stacks of paper money on fire just for fits and giggles. Before they realised, it was already too late. 

All three factors led to the situation they were in right now – hidden, wounded and panicked. 

Junkrat’s slender fingers trembled as they stroked along the worn fabric of his duffle bag.  
“About five more rounds left...” he muttered under his breath, “that’s enough ta blast at least half o' these fuckers dead, maybe the rest’ll be stunned ta even move... “ He let out a high pitched giggle, mixing in with with his blubbering. His mouth worked as quickly as his mind did, spilling out his train of thought into a string of words that passed too quickly for anyone - except Roadhog- to comprehend.

Roadhog looked over at his partner. He knew that giggle; a sound that was heard almost every minute if you stood within a ten meter radius of the mad bomber. To most, that giggle was insignificant, blending in with the rest of small noises that casually tumbled from Junkrat’s lips. However, ‘Hog knew better. He picked up on the unusual raise at the end, as if the laugh itself was a question. 

A question.

Junkrat was asking; asking no one in particular if they were going to survive or not. 

The question lingered in Roadhog’s mind too. Maybe more than lingered; it consumed him.

Any signs of fear or anxiety from the older man were concealed behind his leather mask. He reached out a large hand and rested it on Junkrat’s head, causing him to pause in the middle of his sentence and looked up. 

His mouth was still open, stress and agitation written all over his face. Roadhog’s hand - a hand fit for punching through walls and crushing human skulls - was now gently cradling Junkrat’s head, thumb delicately rubbing at the areas where chunks of hair had fallen out to reveal his scalp.

Junkrat cracked a smile.

Of course there was no need to worry. Roadie, Roadhog, the One Man Apocalypse, was with him. They would blow these Suits to bits, escape with hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of cash and toss the money all around town on their ride back to their temporary hideout, reminding everyone to never mess with Junkrat and Roadhog. 

Junkrat giggled at that thought. 

Good. Roadhog’s touch had somewhat brought down the uncontrollable tension bubbling within the younger of the two. Junkrat would be safe for now; at least from his own mind.

There would no telling on what’s going to happen to them physically. 

Roadhog retreated his hand to wrap his fingers around the cool metal handle of his hook. He was scared. Certainly not of the idiot Suits attempting to take them down - those pieces of shit haven't seen the world die before their eyes. Roadhog was tougher, stronger, deadlier. Even if they were outnumbered, it did not give him a reason to fear those idiots. No; he was not scared of the Suits or even his own death. What triggered his fear was his concerns on what might happen to Junkrat. The kid was reckless, he knew that; especially in these tense situations that could mean life or death. He knew the chances of them both making it out alive were slim, almost non-existent. If only one of them was going to live long enough to see the sun rise again over the horizon, he was going to make sure it was Junkrat. He owed it to the kid after all. If he couldn’t personally take Junkrat to see the rest of the world, he would let the young Junker discover things for himself. 

Junkrat was too young. Too young to die. 

Fear bubbled in his chest, threatening to spill, but he pushed it down. He couldn't have Junkrat know the likelihood of his own life being lost to the battle about to take place.

“I'll hook ‘em.”

“And I'll cook ‘em!”

With both the Junkers crouched behind the counter, ready to strike, the doors to the lobby came crashing down with a bang. For a moment, everything was quiet, as if the world had stopped spinning, holding its breath to see who would move first.  
“Come out with your hands in the air and weapons down! We will do you no harm if you cooperate!” a voice rang through a megaphone, bouncing off the walls like a beach ball.  
With a flick of his wrist, Junkrat tossed one of his empty ammunition containers into the darkness, creating a clatter that snatched the attention of the policemen. 

Of course, those idiots made the mistake of turning their heads.

Immediately, Junkrat jumped up, hoisting himself over the counter and into the air, firing three consecutive frags towards the pack of confused officers. Yells were followed by a familiar ‘tick tick’ and ‘boom’ before the air was filled with the scent of gunpowder and burnt skin. Laughing maniacally, the scrawny Junker landed on the face of a poor officer whose reaction time was too slow, prosthetic-leg-first. He smiled as he felt his peg leg crush the skull of the man under his own weight with a ‘crunch’. After two more pulls of his trigger, three more men were down. 

The screams of agony and heat of his bombs made Junkrat’s lips curl. His eyes shone a freakish orange under the flash of the explosions, his twisted mind pumped with bloodlust.

Junkrat reached into his pocket, pulling out another case of ammunition. However, by now the policemen had registered what was going on to start open fire on the young Junker. Bullets whizzed passed his skin, leaving hot trails; making Junkrat’s adrenaline sky-rocket. He felt a burn before a wave of pain rushed up his left arm, ripping a screech from his throat. A quick glance at his flesh arm told him that he had been shot in in the hand. Red started to soak through his glove as he snarled and turned to face his attacker; only to find that he had been taken care of. Roadhog had reeled the officer in with his mighty hook and just finished snapping his neck in one clean movement.

Flashing his partner an approving grin, Junkrat continued his reckless violence. More frags were launched, punches were thrown and lives were taken. With Roadhog covering his back, Junkrat fought with no worries. He howled, yelped and laughed. Roadhog took up his title of a bodyguard seriously, following his charge’s every step, predicting his every movement and taking action to support him as if the two shared the same mind. With Roadhog’s protection, Junkrat wasn't hurt more than a few bruises, gashes and a bullet lodged somewhere in his mechanical arm - nothing he couldn't live through. Their coordinated actions surprised the policemen; they were unable to attack one of them without the other immediately shielding. All they could manage was to shoot at the two criminals and pray that a bullet will land somewhere vital on the Junkers’ bodies. That never happened. Most of the officers’ time alive in the bloodbath didn't last long. By the time they had emptied most of their ammunition, half of them were already laying limp and lifeless.

For a moment, Roadhog saw a sliver of hope that they would both live through this. However, that hope was soon swept away as he looked up to spot a smarter policeman aiming his gun above their heads at the ceiling. 

The officer stood, hand steady, finger curled around the metal of the trigger.

His mind clicked as the trigger did. The chandelier.

The huge glass-decorate light was dangling dangerously over the area where Junkrat was now standing - the bastard cop had been waiting for this moment. 

Bang.

It happened fast, much faster than anything Roadhog had experienced. Without thinking, he dropped his hook and dove towards Junkrat, arms outstretched. Junkrat looked up from mutilating the face of another officer with his Frag Launcher to see his partner pushing him down. 

The pair landed with a thud; Roahog’s large body covering Junkrat's smaller and scrawnier one, his back facing up and exposed. Junkrat could feel his lungs rattle as all the air was knocked out. Before he could suck in another mouthful to produce a noise, his ears were filled with a loud crash and the deafening roar of pain from the older Junker.  
Junkrat stared; wide-eyed and immobile. It took the older junker to let out snarl and a wheeze before Junkrat had realised what happened. He felt his partner’s blood spread over his own torso, coating him in damp warmth. Roadhog coughed, spraying the inside of his gas mask with red and letting it drip out onto his charge’s chin. 

Junkrat screeched.

“ROA-”

His scream was cut short by another gunshot, the bullet landing dangerously close to ‘Hog’s head. Roadhog grunted softly, growing limp, finally feeling the delayed pain tear deep into his body. As quickly as he could, Junkrat wriggled himself free from under his partner. He turned, snarling, foaming at the mouth like a rabid animal. 

He snapped. 

His fingers curled into fists, clenching until his knuckles turned white. His cry of fury could be heard for miles as he grabbed the nearest officer and snapped his neck, tossing his corpse towards his comrades and knocking them down. He leapt up, landing his heavy boot on the face of one of them, his peg leg in the ribs of another. A hot bullet dove into the flesh of his shoulder, supposedly sending a jolt of pain through his torso. Junkrat didn't feel it. All he felt was rage. He turned, wiping his body guard’s blood off of his chin, burning eyes locked onto the officer that had shot him. His hand reached down, picking up a piece of fallen marble that had dropped along with the chandelier. With a swing of his arm he felt the piece of marble leave his fingertips, flying straight into the left eye of poor cop. 

Junkrat quickly grabbed the officer’s gun, aiming it at the mob of other stunned policemen and holding down the trigger until the magazine was empty. When he realised most of the bullets had lodged themselves in the bullet-proof vests that they were wearing, he shrieked and swiped up a dagger that was hanging from one of the dead officers’ belts. He punched, slashed, stomped, kicked and raged. If any normal person saw him now, they might just mistake his eyes for two flaming balls of fire. His throat was hoarse from screaming but ear-piercing noises continued to spill. 

It wasn't long until there were no policemen left standing. 

Junkrat stood, panting, sweat and blood trickled down his face. He caught a movement out of the corner of his eyes and turned. The officer who had shot down the chandelier was miraculously still alive and moving. He was attempting to crawl away, a trail of blood smearing on the crisp white marble underneath him; body pathetic and broken. His finger was pressed at an earpiece as he muttered for help as quietly as he could manage. 

Junkrat grabbed a gun and shot him in the head without a second thought; thrice.

His body jittered from the cool down of his adrenaline-rush. Dropping everything, the young Junker scampered towards his abandoned partner who was now lying limp and still on the floor. A small pool of his own blood had formed and spread around him like a blooming flower.  
“Roadie, Roadie, ROADHOG!”  
As he neared Roadhog’s body, Junkrat saw, clearly, the millions of pieces of glass embedded into Roadhog’s back, red trickling down his torso. A particularly large one - the centrepiece - had pierced straight in the middle, sunken deep in ‘Hog’s massive body. He knelt, hands trembling, frantically feeling around for a can of Hogrogen that his partner could use to heal. Nothing.  
“Roadhog, wake up, c’mon mate, please!” His shaking fingers brushed away at the loose glass pieces on Roadhog’s back, causing more blood to trickle; drawing ragged red lines down ‘Hog’s skin, as if his veins had surfaced.  
“Roadie, please, Roadie come on!” Junkrat’s fingers gingerly unclipped Roadhog’s mask, removing it. The inside of the gas mask was sprayed with blood, some of it smeared onto Roadhog’s face, colouring the silver hairs on his face a deep crimson. Junkrat’s hands worked fast around ‘Hog’s massive body, busily checking for a pulse, feeling for the breath of his partner and brushing off yet more glass shards. 

God, there was so much of it. It was almost like a bed; a glittering crystal bed made for Roadhog - his death bed.

As his hands moved, Junkrat’s mouth continued working at pleas. They streamed from his mouth, as if enough of his pathetic weeping could magically heal Roadhog and have him back up. 

If only that were true. 

Junkrat would’ve continue begging for an eternity if that were true.

He let out a soft whimper as he stroked his thumb across his partner’s cheek, wiping up some of the red liquid from his face. His voice cracked, his face burned, his eyes stung.

Slowly, Roadhog slit his eyes open, trying to make out the blurry image before him. The room was quiet with only Junkrat's cries bouncing off the walls and echoing around. Moonlight poured onto them from the large windows surrounding the lobby like a waterfall, landing on the pieces of glass shards, making them glisten like jewels. Roadhog’s blood turned them into rubies. He moved his vision upward to see a sight to behold - his boss, Junkrat, red faced and shaking; his face beaded with blood and sweat, hands rubbing at puffy eyes, teeth gritted as he forced out words between them that Roadhog couldn't comprehend. 

The room was quiet.

The policemen; they were gone. They had won the fight. Why was Junkrat crying?

Why was he lying on the floor?

Roadhog’s string of thoughts were interrupted as he felt a wave of pain come crashing down onto his body - the price of remaining conscious when he should have been dead.

Oh. 

He wasn’t going to live, was he? 

His inability to even lift his head told him negative.

Roadhog let out a soft grunt to let Junkrat know he was still alive. Immediately, the scrawny boy looked up.  
“Hoggie! M’so sorry mate, I'll get you healed I promise. I'll fix this!” His lips curled up, attempting to smile, but failing “Just need ta give ya a hit of that good stuff, yer Hogrogen, then you'll be good, yeah? Can ya stand?” Junkrat winced at the stupidity of his own question before smacking his head. “It’s ok, I'll fetch it for ya, know where it is, won't take long!” He started to get up before he felt a large hand grab his wrist, firmly planting his hand back on the floor besides Roadhog. Junkrat looked down in surprise. 

Holy shit, ‘Hog was so strong, even when stabbed with a million pieces of glass.

Roadhog chuckled softly, having only seen the kid this panicked last when he was looking for his peg leg while wearing it. The memory made Roadhog smile a bit; he had purposefully stayed quiet during Junkrat's search, amused. 

“Forget it,” he managed to murmur “it will take too long.”

It didn’t take Junkrat long to comprehend what those words meant, but he pretended to not understand. After all, he didn’t want to accept it. He couldn’t.  
“W-What are ya sayin’ mate?” He repeats his nervous giggle, “Just ‘cause I only have one leg doesn’t mean I ain’t fast y’know! I’ll be back before ya know it. Just… just let me go ‘Hog, yer wasting time.” Junkrat tugged uselessly at his arm, not even managing to move it an inch. Roadhog wasn’t letting up. Blood was trickling away fast.  
“C’mon! Let go, ya stupid pig! M’tryna help ya out!” What should have been sadness spilled out of Junkrat as anger instead. He screeched, spitting out insults, each one making less sense than the previous, as he tried to yank his arm out from Roadhog’s iron grip.  
“YER WASTING TIME! LET ME HEAL YA BEFORE… before…” Junkrat huffed and panted, face crimson from crying and fighting ‘Hog’s grip on him. Finally, he made a soft ‘tch’ before gritting his teeth and stopped trying.

“Jamison.” Junkrat hardly recognised Roadhog’s voice. It used to be powerful, strong and dripping with threat. Now it was cracking, broken. 

Broken, just like the chandelier. 

Broken, just like his body. 

Broken, just like Roadhog’s promise to show Junkrat the world. 

Broken.

Junkrat fell quiet. The room was filled with loud silence. Roadhog felt exhaustion wash over him as he bathed in the uncomfortable quietness. The usual chattering from his partner was gone. Dead. Just like he was going to be in a few minutes. He used the last of his strength to make sure he at least wouldn't die without what he loved (and hated) most. 

“Talk to me…” he whispered.

Silence.

“Talk to me, ‘Rat.”

Silence.

“Blow the rest of this town up for me… yeah? The world too.”

Silence.

Roadhog was not used to this, the times he initiated conversation with the scrawny kid (or anyone else for that matter) in his entire life had been next to none. But ‘Hog was determined to hear that shrill voice again. It was the last and only thing he wanted to hear. As if hearing it would let him rest in peace, guide him safely into the afterlife or some bullshit like that. Haha. He's pretty sure the only thing awaiting him after death is hell. Or at least nothing pleasant for what he’s spent his life on.

“Remember our heist in Paris?”

A soft sniffle was followed by a nod as one of Junkrat’s favourite memories resurfaced, tugging at the corners of his mouth into a small smile. What a lovely day that had been. A whole twenty four hours filled with explosions, chaos, destruction and laughter. 

Laughter.

He would never hear ‘Hog’s beautiful laugh again. Never again be blessed by the deep belly chuckles that sent shivers down Junkrat’s spine, spinning his world while he forgot how to breathe. Oh, how beautiful that laughter was. So rare, that he would savour every moment of it. Sometimes when ‘Hog laughed, Junkrat tried to keep himself quiet just to hear another second of it properly. Most of the time he failed, fell into fits of giggles himself, his piercing voice blending in with Roadhog’s heavier one. 

Heavy.

That’s one of the things Roadhog was. Others included violent, powerful and menacing. However, the sheer size of Roadhog was what caught ‘Rat’s attention at the bar where they first met. During which, he was too occupied into trying to slip himself out of being skewered to death by a mob of other Junkers to even mention it to ‘Hog. Of course, his mouth hadn’t stayed shut for long.  
“Yer big, mate!” were the first words Junkrat had said to his new partner once they both set foot outside the gates of Junkertown. Junkrat was expecting a blow to the face, kick in the stomach, or for Roadhog to just straight up leave and cut the deal not even an hour after it had been made. But none of that happened. Instead, he received a noise from Roadhog which sounded like an affirmative grunt. He was stunned. The following days, months, years after that moment were all filled with praises on how amazingly large Roadhog was from his smaller partner. Roadhog’s size was one of Junkrat’s favourite things about his bodyguard. It made him deadly, powerful, magnificent.

“Magnificent fucking pig…” Junkrat voiced his thought quietly, cutting off Roadhog in the middle of his mumble about their Paris heist.

Oh. Right.

Junkrat hadn’t even noticed the sudden increase in the amount of words ‘Hog spoke. His mind was preoccupied with listing every single thing he enjoyed over the past few years.  
Every single thing.

Those things all compressed together and took the form of a giant man who was now lying in front of him. A giant man who was dying.

Roadhog was dying.

“I said, yer a magnificent fucking pig… ya magnificent fucking pig.” Junkrat shuffled next to ‘Hog, curling his legs underneath himself to sit on. His hands reached forward and grasped a larger piece of glass before plucking it out of the flesh it was embedded in. Roadhog let out a soft grunt before falling back into his usual silence. Blood trickled down the shard, trailing down to disappear into the larger pool beneath. Junkrat finally started talking again, granting Roadhog’s wish of hearing his voice, as he reached for another shard, repeating the same actions. 

Junkrat talked.

He continued on about the Paris heist as Roadhog had prompted. He talked about hijacking the plane, blowing up the Louvre, stealing the Mona Pizza, or whatever it was called, just to graffiti on her face. He muttered about the Suits, giggled about bombs and praised Roadhog for the million times he had saved him.

“More times than these fuckin’ pieces of glass on yer back, mate!”

Junkrat talked.

Mindless words rolled off his tongue as his hands removed every piece of glass from his partner’s back, one by one. He was fully aware that his actions caused blood to spew out at a faster rate. But he didn't care right now; Roadhog didn't seem to either. No bodyguard of his will die with a million glass shards sticking out of his back like a goddamn echidna. Or a hedgehog. Haha.

He laughed at his own pun.

The truth was, Junkrat couldn’t bare seeing Roadhog like this. It looked too painful, too cruel.

Hurts. 

Hurt him as much as it did hurt Roadhog. 

He couldn’t - couldn’t look. Couldn’t. 

His breathing became uneven, his sentences fell apart like the chandelier had. Fat tears rolled down his cheeks as he continued to rasp out words, throat hoarse from screaming. 

Junkrat felt the moment Roadhog died.

He heard Roadhog exhale his last breath, saw his eyes fade and flutter shut, felt the forty eight years of life slip away from the man in a single moment. Junkrat watched his partner die next to him, he himself unable to do anything to grasp onto the last shred of his partner’s life. He was powerless. All he could do was watch.

Roadhog was dead.

Junkrat didn’t stop. His mouth continued to work, hands continued to move. He talked mindless words only for himself to hear. Bombs, scrapping, Australia, his treasure, the first movie they watched together - anything that popped into mind, Junkrat talked about. His mouth only slowed to a stop when every single piece of glass had been pulled out of Roadhog’s back. The pieces lay in a pile on the floor, glistening in the moonlight. It was sickening to admit that they looked more beautiful than any jewel the duo had ever laid their hands on before.

“This is all yer gonna leave me with, eh Hoggie?” Junkrat smiled weakly at the pile. Exhaustion suddenly hit him like a brick wall, blurring his vision. The blond rubbed at his eyes before making the mistake of turning his attention back to his partner’s corpse.

It was disgusting.

What used to be a strong, muscular back that Junkrat had clung to countless times was now peppered with bloody holes and dents where the broken glass had stabbed into. Roadhog’s body looked like a wasps nest, except someone had decided to cut it down and bathe the nest in blood. Millions of cavities, big and small, covered his torso like a second layer of skin. 

Junkrat stared; the holes stared back. 

They seemed endless; they dug into Roadhog like thick and thin tubes, housing god-knows-what in their black pits. Then, Junkrat saw it. A movement in those holes, a movement every so slight that made him merely question his sanity at first. However, he soon confirmed himself to have completely lost his fucking mind when he saw bugs and worms starting to crawl out of the ‘Hog’s body. Disgusting, bloody bugs. Worms etched their way across Roadhog’s back, oozing with mucus, leaving a yellowish trail wherever they went, black beetles scattered around, their tiny, clawed legs catching the skin of Roadhog’s back every so often, pulling and tugging at the flesh before ripping it out. 

Junkrat stared, mouth agape. His mind screamed for him to close his eyes, look somewhere else, to stop witnessing the horror that was unfolding in front of him. But his body didn’t move. He continued staring.

Then, the holes blinked. They blinked. The holes closed themselves and opened again to reveal eyeballs. Eyeballs of all sizes, oogling and glaring at Junkrat. Their gaze pierces right through him, sending a voice in his head that screamed “this is your fault, he died protecting you”. The voice screamed. Junkrat copied. 

One would think it was impossible for the man to scream again, but he did. Even after all the strain he had put on his voice, he managed to produce an ear-splitting shriek. The sound travelled for miles, containing every emotion known to mankind. All the things Junkrat was feeling compressed down to one inhuman noise that rang out into the night. That scream could only be described as somewhat akin to a mixture of a banshee’s wail and how a mother would cry when she loses her only child; except more powerful.

Junkrat screamed.

Then, he doubled over and vomited violently onto the floor. What was an ear piercing cry earlier was replaced with a horrific retching sound as the young Junker threw up. Whatever he had consumed the morning before their big heist came up in a disgusting liquid and splattered onto the marble floor, mixing in with Roadhog’s blood. His head pounded with unbearable pain as his vision blurred and fogged. When there was nothing left in his stomach, he gagged and dry heaved. 

This was his fault.

Junkrat curled over in a messy heap. Sweat, blood and vomit replaced the usual soot on his face. As soon as his outburst had started, it stopped; and Junkrat was left panting,his body drained of energy. His mind fogged as he considered just dying like this; in this position, next to his bodyguard, when his thoughts were interrupted by a distant yet distinct siren wailing. 

It took them long enough to send back up.

Immediately, Junkrat jerked up. He snarled, eyes burning with anger. This wasn’t the end yet.

“Blow up the rest of this town for me, yeah?” he quoted his partner out loud. 

His metal hand reached up and swiped at the various fluids on his face, smearing them. Driven by rage and vengeance, he heaved himself up. He strolled over to where he had killed the leader of the policemen, carelessly stepping on the corpses strewn out over the lobby floor. A black duffle bag along with several suitcases lay next to the body. They opened to reveal a stash of grenades, bombs, boxes of gunpowder and other explosive items.

“Tryin’ fight a bomber with bombs eh? How fuckin’ stupid can these Suits get…” A voice that didn’t sound like his croaked as he got to work, quickly strapping the various explosives to his body. The sirens cried louder. Louder. With only minutes left before the police approached, Junkrat turned one last time to his dead partner.

His vision had cleared, the bugs were gone. He forced out a single sad giggle as he picked up Roadhog’s hook, brushed his dry lips over the metal and gently set it on top of its owner’s back. 

“A real warrior ya were, mate. Couldn’t go down without a fight. Don’t worry, I won’t let ‘em take me.”

Sirens wailed, car doors slammed, orders were barked. Junkrat hobbled slowly to the doors of the bank, a maniac grin slapped on. The cool night air kissed at his burning skin and for a moment everything felt peaceful; until a bright light hit him directly in the face. His hand instinctively flew up to shield his eyes as he squinted, baring his teeth at the officer shining a spotlight at him. 

Good. Attention was on him. It wouldn’t be long before they realise-  
“Sir! He’s got bombs on him! So many! What do we do?!”  
“Shoot him! Kill him!”  
“We can’t, the bombs… we might hit one! It’s too dangerous!”

Junkrat watched as the head officer grabbed a megaphone and bring it to his lips.  
“Jamison Fawkes! Stay right where you are and do not proceed any further!”  
Junkrat ignored him, his grin unfaltering, legs (or leg) continuing to move.  
“Stop right there and disarm yourself!”  
Junkrat plucked off one of the grenades on his belt, gripping the lever tightly.  
“Jamison, where is Mako Ruteldge? We understand that you are both injured and we can provide you with medical care if you cooperate.”

Junkrat stopped.

“Roadhog.”  
The officer brought the megaphone down and looked to the policeman beside him with a puzzled face.  
“His name is Roadhog!” Junkrat brought the grenade up to his mouth, ripping the safety pin from its place before spitting it onto the pavement. “And my name is Junkrat, got it? That’s Roadhog and Junkrat, that’s who we will die as!”

With one final scream, Junkrat sprinted towards the police cars. The sudden action causing one of the policemen to pull his trigger, the bullet striking a bomb strapped to the scrawny man’s shoulder. At the same time, Junkrat let go of the grenade in his hand, letting the lever fly off. 

He smiled.

“See ya on the flip side, Hoggie.” 

A wave of heat stronger than anything he’d experienced in the outback consumed Junkrat before a blast went off. An explosion large enough to destroy ten buildings lit up the night sky, painting it with swirls of red, orange and yellow. A mist of smoke rose as bodies were burnt. The roar of the explosion drowned out the any screams made. Dust and shrapnel sprayed into the air before showering down onto the concrete like rain, settling on the several corpses that littered the floor.

Among these several corpses lay the bodies of the two dead Junkers. Delivered into the hands of death by something they loved. 

Roadhog had always loved protecting Junkrat.

Junkrat had always loved explosions.

Distant sirens echoed as ashes drifted into the dark night sky.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank ye so much for readin!  
> All comments are welcome but please remember that this is actually the first fic I've ever posted online. I don't really do writing seriously, it's just a fun way to pass time when I'm not too busy so apologies for all the errors n mistakes.  
> I'm more of an artist, you can find my drawings n shit at http://skyskii.tumblr.com/  
> Hit me up if you wanna talk about Junkers or somethin! As much as I tortured them in this fic, I do love my boys very much ;u;  
> Jen's Tumblr: https://softandpastellesbian.tumblr.com/  
> Jaide's Tumblr: https://jakeleesley.tumblr.com/  
> Thanks again for reading!


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